Fetishism And Poetic Analysis05:47 Jan 21 2008
Times Read: 743
Today is National Fetish Day. An unofficial holiday created because of those of us who believe we should be allowed to express our loves and ideas. Rather than going into work in PVC or dropping the kids off in nothing but high heels and lingerie, you can express to the world that you don’t conform to society’s ideals in one simple way. Wear purple.
Personally my wardrobe deviates little from black but today I intend to wear one of my purple corsets under a purple hoodie and I shall do my makeup in shades of lilac and violet. I shall drink Ribena from my purple glasses and write only in purple ink during my lectures. Then afterward I shall use money from my purple wallet to buy food in a purple wrapper to eat while reading a book with a purple cover. Yes, I am being a little ridiculous now but you get my point.
Now onto sometime a little different but probably just as ridiculous. I am going to do an analysis of the poem Warning - When I Am an Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple in the context of nonconformity and fetishism. Bear in mind that this is not as much a serious poetic discussion based upon my literally background as much as a random sequence of thoughts presented by my often counterproductive mind during the middle of the night before an exam. Now try saying that sentence without taking a breath. I recommend it as a cure for hiccups.
Warning - When I Am an Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple
By Jenny Joseph
When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple
With a red hat that doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin candles, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I am tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickles for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beer nuts and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
And now for the analysis:
When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple
It would appear that this woman believes she needs to wait until she is a pensioner before she will feel comfortable enough to express, by wearing purple, that she has fetishes and is proud of that fact.
With a red hat that doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And here we see the nonconformity where she decides that she will do what she likes irrespective of society’s opinion.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
A glove fetishist, perhaps? And brandy for her and her lover.
And satin candles, and say we've no money for butter.
Candles for edge play. Flame and burning wax with only one object required. And the disregard for the butter suggests that she may wish to penetrate her lover or be penetrated by him without lubrication.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I am tired
But that’s only until the police arrive to arrest her for public nudity.
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
Now consider if the shops mentioned were sex shops; what kind of samples would she be tasting? And what if the alarm bells were part of a role-playing situation? You’re starting to view this poem differently now aren’t you?
And run my stick along the public railings
Well it could be a stick for beating her slaves. And I don’t think I need to suggest the other possibility.
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
Presumably, this was when she was the sub of the relationship and forbidden to drink.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
For the pleasure of having her slaves like them clean.
And pick the flowers in other people's gardens
And so the anarchy begins.
And learn to spit.
A clear indication that society has no hold over her any longer.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow fat
I believe this is a reference to the faceless corporations that blight the landscape and rake in the profits leaving the lesser members of society poor.
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
This would be frowned upon by the straight-backed dictators.
Or only bread and pickles for a week
Of course it could be for use in the bedroom. After all, the ancients had bread dildos.
And hoard pens and pencils and beer nuts and things in boxes.
Beer nuts, found in every bar. Pens and pencils, long hard objects, need I say more? As for locking things in boxes, I wonder where she keeps her slaves.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And conform to society’s ideals.
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And be mindless zombies.
And set a good example for the children.
Who aren’t paying attention anyway.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But the friends could be fetishists and the papers might be erotica.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
Practice makes perfect.
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
People always are anyway.
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
And display her true nature.
My sincerest apologies to Jenny Joseph for absolutely ruining her poem. What began as an analysis rapidly descended into a rambling, lack-of-sleep-fuelled, sexually-orientated interpretation. Again, I’m sorry. But these things happen when I’m left to my own devices and it is almost 6am and I do have a statistics exam at 9am, so perhaps you’ll forgive me, dear reader, for wasting your precious time with my randomness. Or perhaps not. Either way, it won’t stop me.
Oh, and one final thing, I got bored earlier and drew hearts and stars over half my body in ink. And what colour was that ink? Purple of course.
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